Bad Things Come to An End
by SarcasticReaper
Summary: An analysis of the life of Walter White in prose. There will be SPOILERS in later chapters, that's a fair warning!
1. Prologue-Some Chemistry

**Before we begin, I have to say that "Breaking Bad" is a diamond in the rough, something very precious to me and many many other people. The concept of the show is so original and compelling that I remember before I had ever watched it, people were saying that its possibly the best TV show ever, or one of the best TV shows ever, and now that I've watched it that's not much of an exaggeration. For this work, at the moment, I'm in some road blocks on how I want to continue it, but what I have will suffice.**

**I seriously feel a need to thank Vince Gilligan for creating the show, and all the actors and actresses for bringing it to life, because its has left quite an impression.**

**- SB**

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At this age, you look around and see how life has treated you. It could've handed you a golden scepter and left you on your way to live in a comfortable position with your beloved family, or, life could've thrown you to the dirt and might as well have said 'fuck you' and leave you to fight for a healthy life and an ability to provide for the ones you love so dearly. This is the latter of the two choices.

**_I've lost everything, family, friends, jobs, but I did it for my family. I've killed for them, earned the money that they needed._**

**_No matter what they think of me, I'll still love them._**

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_"And a man, a man provides. And he does it even when he's not appreciated, or respected, or even loved. He simply bears up and he does it. Because he's a man." - Gustavo Fring_

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**Author's Note:**

**I wanted to start this analysis of Breaking Bad with a strong quote from one of my favorite TV villains, and I must say, it is a very inspirational quote coming from Gus, one that both him and Walter follow in the show.**

**Stay tuned and thanks for reading!**

**-SB **


	2. 50

_I wake up to a daily routine to see myself sitting at a table with breakfast, sunlight shone on this beautiful day. My son, with crutches wrapped around his arms, says happy birthday to me and sits. My wife sets plates topped with eggs and bacon, but for me, something special. _

_The number fifty, "written" in bacon_.

Happiness is something that we find along the journey of life, no one is ever born happy. We find things that make us contort our facial muscles into a smile as our brains give off a chemical that gives the sensation of happiness.

_The sciences were a gift to my mind, highly skilled in the ways of life, how things tick. So I brought it to the minds of younger ones. I mentor, I teach those who will listen_.

_It was a daily thing, wake up, breakfast, work, lunch, work again, and dinner. It was all ordinary._

_Until I got word._

Something was eating away, literally, eating him away as a blank stare was shared on his behalf_._

_Cancer._

_Inoperable._

_Terminal_.

Worry was permanently scratched into his face, he was scared, he didn't want to tell his family, so he carried on as if nothing had happened. Yet, at the same time he felt unfazed by this monkey wrench thrown into his life.

Time was all he had, all he is given now that his life is running out. He is a fuse: ashes burnt of a fire, withering away until there is nothing but dust left in the wake.

But yet as his life dies, he is content; he feels somewhat in control. This final act of his life places him in the forefront with both hands on the wheel and the foot on the pedal.

Life is going _**his**_ way now.

* * *

_"I have spent my whole life scared, frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen, 50-years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at three in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis, I sleep just fine. What I came to realize is that fear, that's the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So, get up, get out in the real world and you kick that bastard as hard you can right in the teeth." – Walter White_ "


	3. Ride Along

_ It was at my birthday party where I was given an opportunity, for a ride along. Brother in law being a DEA agent made life a little less tolerable, including when he's somewhat an attention whore, but it's not too bad. He was caring at least, my son thought he was the biggest badass on the planet, and he had his own things to teach, like how to catch drug dealers_.

_That's what I learned on the ride along_.

This black van he sat in, it was very cliché to any sorts of law enforcement, the vehicle itself was menacing. He sat by two other agents in the backseat while his brother in law and his partner took up the front, a bullet proof vest strapped around each man in the car.

_Why did I agree to go? Nothing is happening…. Just wait it out_.

_The neighborhood seemed like a decent one, nice houses, no hoodlums hiding around. Also seemed like a good cover for some junkies to hide a lab._

_ A few guys armed in vests, helmets, and whatever else, broke in. I sat there in shock at the sight, after a few minutes the whole place was ransacked on the outside, windows broken and bullet holes everywhere. Yet I stay intrigued, I want to see the setup._

_ Before I ask my brother in law, I see a kid fall off of the roof and a naked woman throw him a pair of pants. I got a closer look and- __**Pinkman?!**_

_ I'm pretty surprised to see him, out of all people, yet it isn't that farfetched either. He dallied in my classes and never gave a damn, so he failed. From what other teachers had said about him, he was a delinquent._

_He motioned at me to be quiet, but I was dumbfounded, like I was drugged with some sort of narcotic, I couldn't think straight and everything was happening so quickly for me to comprehend. He was able to get away.__Now, I've time to clear my head, I ask my brother in law to see if I can observe the lab, he checks if it's alright, and finally says yes._

* * *

_ life, is truly a test. When you are given a time limit, you make the best of it, fulfill your dreams, say your goodbyes, and keep everyone close.__I thought I was doing that, by earning money for them, for the kids to go to college and my wife to pay the bills. _

_ but in the end of it all, I'm further away from them than I've ever been before. I'm unloved, and waiting to die._

* * *

_ I eventually tracked down Pinkman from the school records, to take a visit. He was very surprised to say the least, I told him what I intended to do, and he reluctantly agreed to start cooking meth together._

Since the meth business isn't exactly the most divine, holy, or legal way to make some cash, secrecy was important here. He kept a second cell phone to contact Pinkman. It was the beginning of something he never imagined would end up happening.

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"_Short speech. You lost your partner today. What's his name – Emilio? Emilio is going to prison. The DEA took all your money, your lab. You got nothing. Square one. But you know the business and I know the chemistry. I'm thinking...maybe you and I could partner up."- Walter White to Jesse Pinkman_


	4. The Krystal Ship

**_I remember back in the cabin when I tried to sleep. I couldn't. The cancer had come back and my coughs were violent. After covering my mouth I let my arm dangle off the side of the bed._**

**_I heard something fall onto the floor, I looked and saw my wedding band. It slid off of my finger._**

**_The time I have left is dwindling down to the final days: I've lost a considerable amount of weight to the point where my bones stick out and are defined by skin, clothes don't fit, and now my wedding ring won't stay on my finger._**

**_I pick it up with the little amount of strength that I have and wonder, like a child, what's wrong. I put it around my finger and see that it's like it was two sizes too big, it loosely hung around my finger. I…..I don't want to lose it, it's all I have left._**

* * *

_ Pinkman had this RV, it was an old clunky thing that looked like it was from the early 2000's. The actual definition of a typical white trash mobile home, but something mobile was what we needed. That RV was where we cooked._

_ We drove it out to the desert and let it sit as hours and hours passed of hard work. He still wondered why I chose to cook meth, and he was still in disbelief about it too, yet when he saw the methamphetamine I had created, he was more than happy to work alongside. Pinkman thought of the creation of meth as an art form, like sketching in a book or throwing paint on a canvas. Well he isn't wrong, but it is art that must always be done with care: knowing what goes into the creation of it and the time and effort exerted are very important._

His meth was the best, according to Pinkman. It was as clear as glass, as blue as the sky without a cloud in sight. It shone like diamonds and glistened like the surface of water.

It was ninety-nine percent pure, the purest he had ever seen.

_He said that people will pay "top dollar" for this meth, and that reassured me. I need that money, I don't exactly know how long I will live and I want my family to be secure when I am gone. Yet as I know that this is extremely illegal, it's even confirmed by my own DEA agent of a brother in law that it rakes in the cash pretty quickly, and in large quantities. Jesse said that he knew a guy who would be able to sell, the seller in question calls himself Krazy-8._

_I'm going to guess that he's not a straightforward businessman, but if that's who he has contact with then it's at least worth the try._

_ Jesse had led him out to the cook site. Krazy-8 got out of his car and I already was able to tell that he was hesitant, I don't know if it was just my paranoia or his intimidation that made me assume this already. I haven't even talked to him yet! But hell, if I saw a middle aged man in nothing but his underwear and an apron in the middle of the sweltering heat then I wouldn't be too enthusiastic either, but Krazy-8 was hesitant in a more, cautious way, he chose his words carefully when we finally spoke about the meth._

_ And I was able to find out, while the barrel of a gun stared me down. It turns out that the other person in the car had recognized me from the ride along, it was Pinkman's partner and he thought I was in with the DEA. Now, I've never had a gun pointed at me, just the thought of that–someone aiming it to your head, feeling like at any moment everything around you will go dark, makes me tremble. Now that it's become a reality, its either fight or flight._

Intense out in the heat, their minds tick. He was afraid, not ready to die just yet. He tells Krazy-8 that the recipe for the meth could be his, if he and Pinkman were allowed to live. The three of them entered the RV while Jesse was bound outside.

He shook, paranoia infested his mind like a parasite eating away at his nerves, every little bite fueled with anxiety that rode upon the cords, eventually sending shivers down his spine and sweat to trickle on his forehead. They watched him very closely as he grounded up ingredients in a small bowl. He worked slowly, a little too slowly for Krazy-8, he forced him to speed it up as he lowered a pan under a burner. This next step was crucial. He looked at a few containers in front of him holding different chemicals. One catches his eye: phosphine.

He hides the fear away as he gently grabs the container and unscrews the lid, holds it over the pan of fluid, pours it in and ducks.

_ A remarkable chemical reaction! When phosphate is heated up, it explodes and creates a toxic gas, now this was my chance. My feet felt numb as I stumbled out of the RV and held its door shut with all of my strength as I heard them choking and coughing inside. They pounded at the door yet I was able to keep them in, only seconds later I hear a gunshot from inside. I had felt the whiz of the bullets pass right over my head, I lowered myself and took in some sharp breaths until they stopped kicking._

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**___"[about Walter's meth]_ This is glass grade. I mean, you got...Jesus, you got crystals in here 2 inches, 3 inches long. This is pure glass. You're a damn artist! This is art, Mr. White!"- Jesse Pinkmam**

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**This is basically summing up the first episode. I'm not too happy with how it came out after I bring in Krazy-8, it's really hard to write about characters without mentioning their name. I wanted it to feel more poetic, that's why I wanted to keep it very vague when it came to mentioning characters because then it will just feel like I'm telling the entire story over again in the same way.**

**But I will keep this up for everyone to see, yet I will try to revise and polish it to my liking.**

**If you are enjoying please favorite and follow so you can see what else I'm up to, and thank you for reading :)**

**Before I end I have to just mention for my own sake that all characters belong to Mr. Vince Gilligan, the mad genius behind this remarkable series.**


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